I started to tell this story, then I looked for a suitable image, and while I was at it, might as well create a watermark, so the result is that nothing got done besides a lot of image re-arranging. You may get one poor quality, unwatermarked image, because who really wants to steal a small, poor quality image? On to the story.

Long ago, but not so far away, my brother, Mr. Trick, and I were allied as partners in crimes against the parents. These crimes involved a great deal of intrigue, planning, and stealth. Stealth was key because we wanted, in this case to steal the cookies out of the pantry.

We had to stay awake a long time until the giants (parents) went to bed, and we gave them time to fall asleep. This gave our anticipation of the stolen goods more salivation factor, and allowed us to refine the plan.

Hand signals were not terribly effective in the dark, so we had to revise the plan during the execution of the manoevre. Who says criminals are dumb?

It took an agonizing amount of time to descend the old, creaky staircase, and tiptoe down the hall to the pantry. We were shivering with excitement as we ear-whispered directions to one another.

Once we reached our objective, we loaded up our arms, and BOOM! thundered up the stairs (times two) in our haste to devour the prize. I guess we figured that possession was nine-tenths of the law, but we had forgotten how annoyed those pesky parents became when aroused from their sleep.

The punishment was not just for cookie theft, it was an angry punishment administered in the wrath of being awakened. It wasn’t pretty. We decided our career in crime was not our optimum life path. And it was difficult to sit down for a while too.

Seated on horse: little brother, witchypoo, partner in crime brother. This was taken when we were able to sit without pain.

15 Responses to “The Great Cookie Caper”

I would definitely be more angered about being awakened then about missing cookies.

When I was little my mom used to work at our church, which was in the middle of nowhere in the desert. She’d just let us play on the grounds while she worked, which got really boring. So one day we broke into the Sunday School trailer and trashed it and left a note (my idea) saying we were aliens returning to reclaim our territory. We did get caught, I mean, there wasn’t really anyone else that could have been responsible, but we weren’t punished. They probably thought it was too funny.

When visitors used to come from “away”, they always brought Mars Bars which Mum stashed in the fridge. My brother and I had highly successful midnight raids, and ate our contraband on the roof. We thought we were brilliant criminals!

Now I could never do anything like that. When I was a kid, our house was in a state of permanently being built (we started with one room and a caravan) so my Dad slept in the kitchen (in a built in bed). The floors were creaky and wonky and Dad sleeps as light as a feather.

I remember getting up nights to get a drink of water and every time Dad would ask, ‘What are you doing?’.

Every. Single. Time.

By the time I was older, I knew which floorboards didn’t creak and I didn’t wake him up everytime.

Back in the olden days in my house, punishment was severe for cookie theft, the waking up part just made the punisher angrier. We were unskilled criminals for sure, but it made us want to finish school

I spent most of my childhood “grounded”–Every other time was for doing something like sneaking snacks (gee, no wonder I was a 70 lb 4th grader—-give the girl some food!). Some of my favorite things to pilfer: Cake Mix, Brown Sugar and a huge mistake–> Unsweetened Chocolate. Yeah, learned what “unsweetened” meant the hard way. Also, it was such a let down– taking about 15 minutes to sneak it upstairs, another 1/2 hour before I was “alone”, all for a craptastic taste of something I thought would be sooooo good.

For several years during a home addition project, my brother and I shared a bedroom that you could only access THROUGH my parents’ bedroom. There was no sneaking anywhere at night. However, we had a door that went from our bedroom to the outside and we were threatened with our lives if we EVER opened it. We believed we would be killed and never so much as pondered going out that door. The threats of punishment by death were far reaching when I was a kid! Only now do I realize my dad was so strict because he’d been such a hellraiser.

For several years during a home addition project, my brother and I shared a bedroom that you could only access THROUGH my parents’ bedroom. There was no sneaking anywhere at night. However, we had a door that went from our bedroom to the outside and we were threatened with our lives if we EVER opened it. We believed we would be killed and never so much as pondered going out that door. The threats of punishment by death were far reaching when I was a kid!

Goodness, your post brings back memories. Sneaking part way down the stairs at night to watch TV because the TV was in the right part of the living room. And getting caught, because my Dad was VERY light on his feet. And not being able to sit down, because we got our spanking in the morning, instead of having to ’sleep on it’. And the hard wooden chairs in the kitchen, that were difficult to sit in even when your butt wasn’t sore from the lickin you just got. And my Mom’s brownies. And the apple slices from the bakery – the ones with the thick white icing on the top. And the pumpkin slices from the Bohemian bakery on the corner of the next block. And Wheaties for breakfast in the morning. And my Gramps always ate Corn Flakes with sliced banana. And a sprinkle of sugar. And strong black coffee. (Not on the corn flakes.) And Granny used to make strawberry shortcake -after she trimmed the strawberries and sugared them and let them set in a bowl in the refrigerator overnight.

[...] suffering younger brother, Dizzee, father of Wild Child, still speaks to me after all the torture Mr. Trick and I put him through. I’m grateful for this because he is basically kind and quite [...]